I’ve been away from this space for more than a minute and while my absence was not intentional, it was necessary.
My last post was about me reaching my limit and no longer allowing people to occupy my intellectual and emotional space. It was about me realizing, finally, that I’ve been derelict in my responsibility to myself.
I was struggling.
I was really struggling and nobody wanted to know about it. It was written on my face and telegraphed by my body. But no one asked with sincerity about my well-being. No one wanted to know. When I said I was feeling a kind of way, they would immediately turn it into a conversation about themselves.
The recent suicides of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain sent the media into a tizzy of over-communication. Sharing links to websites and 1-800-numbers to suicide prevention groups. Everyone wanted to talk about these two prominent deaths and attach them to their own stories. Spade and Bourdain were supposed to be us.
Still, no one was listening. Everyone was too busy adding their voices to the noise.
Because they say no matter where you go, there you are, I’ve made the conscious decision to put everything and anything having to do with me first. That means I take time to sit with myself and be with myself.
No one is going to save me so I have to save myself.
Because I want to live.